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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
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“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. . . . Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord. . . .” ― Charles Spurgeon “Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ― C. H. Spurgeon “Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.” ― Charles Haddon Spurgeon “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” ― Charles Spurgeon “A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.” ― Charles Spurgeon “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” ― Charles Spurgeon “When your will is God's will, you will have your will.” ― Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV)    |
| Marshlands wait along the coast, calling, "Bring your heart." Nothing there would cause a boast, though great hope can start. "Must be low the salty tide. Smell the 'rotten eggs,' pluff mud fragrance will abide as wine." For some the dregs. Sunset builds cathedrals here, coasting boat or bench. Lapping waters lift each care, wafting breeze, the stench. Marshlands, such acquired tastes, aromas, so profound, for those, who roam the salty wastes their pleasures quite abound. Lumb'ring gators, scuttling crabs, snakes, and ocean fish tend their duties, moms, and dads provide some future wish. Exist, they do, these marshland homes because the shelf is long, and shallow, like a sunny dome, providing light's love song. The Blake Plateau off most the coast lights eighty sunny miles from dryish land, this ocean's toast creates some lazy wiles. Tides roll out to bare the mud. Sun bakes the potpourri. Each fragrance lands quite like a thud, until embracings free. Some places have a sweeter smell, but if you've grown up here the pluff-mud's odors often tell, "You're home, where land is dear." The coastal Georgia marshlands call, "Come, share this life, unique. There's pleasantness for one and all, beyond the pluff-mud's reek." by Jay O’Toole on September 6th, 2021 |
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